


The THRUSH First Secretary Affair

by Jasonomahony



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasonomahony/pseuds/Jasonomahony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something wrong in UNCLE, and the chairman of the United Nations' UNCLE Oversight Committee wants Solo and Kuryakin to investigate. But why can't they inform Mr. Waverly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The THRUSH First Secretary Affair

The Man from U.N.C.L.E.  
“The THRUSH First Secretary Affair.”

Prologue:  
A US Army convoy, consisting of two motorcycle outriders, a sealed truck, and a second open truck with armed soldiers in it is driving down a dusty, rural tree-lined road. 

Cut to: a figure wearing a gas mask, crouched over a mortar, in a nearby wooded area. He drops a mortar shell with a green stripe on it into the mortar. It fires.

Cut to: the shell explodes in a plume of green gas just in front of the outriders, causing both to crash.

Cut to: an extended UNCLE Special sticks out of the bushes, and fires at the driver of the first truck, shattering the windscreen and causing it to swerve on the road, blocking the second truck. 

Cut to: shells of green gas explode around the soldiers in the rear truck as they attempt to exit the vehicle. The gas overpowers most of them. Two are shot by UNCLE Specials (unseen.)

Cut to: six figures, five armed with UNCLE specials, emerge from the woods as the gas dissipates. All wear gasmasks.

The unarmed one, more formally dressed, goes to remove his mask. Another one stops him.

Kuryakin: Not yet, Mr. Chairman. I’d prefer not to have to carry you to the car.

The Chairman, Mr. Abernathy, waves a hand in thanks, and leaves the gasmask in place.  
Another man jumps up on the first truck, then steps down, removing the mask. 

It is Napoleon Solo.

Solo: We can tell UNCLE research that the glass piercing sleep darts do what they said they’d do.

The others remove their masks, and walk towards the rear of the second truck. 

Abernathy: Now, gentlemen. You’ll understand why I commandeered you both without Mr. Waverley’s knowledge.

Solo: Yes, I really hope you have a get out of jail card on you somewhere.

Abernathy: My men here will take all these fellows into custody at UN Security. The FBI will hold them for a few days until we sort the paperwork. 

Kuryakin: Clever move on THRUSH’s part, moving around in broad daylight like this.

One of Abernathy’s men breaks a lock off the back of the second truck, and pulls the door open.  
The rear of the truck is very elegantly designed, with comfortable sofas, a TV, a writing desk and a   
Well-stocked drinks trolley.

A tall, well-dressed man, Sebastian Tarses, is currently mixing himself a drink.

Tarses: Can I interest any of you gentlemen in a little afternoon something? I’ve a delightfully sharp white chilling in the refrigerator. And you must try the brie!

Abernathy steps forward.

Abernathy: Mr Kuryakin, Mr Solo, meet Mr Sebastian Tarses of THRUSH Central.

Solo: Enjoy it while you have it, Tarses. The wine list will be a tad disappointing where you’re going.

Abernathy: I’m afraid not, Mr Solo. Mr Tarses is actually here to help us. It was he who tipped me off as to this convoy.

Kuryakin: Oh good. Another THRUSH defector looking for a handout when it gets too hot in the THRUSH kitchen. 

Tarses lifts up a wooden box with a handle and places it on the table. 

Tarses: Mr Chairman. As promised.

Abernathy directs Solo and Kuryakin away from the truck.

Abernathy: Gentlemen, I ask you both to trust me. What Mr Tarses is bringing, if true, will change everything in the war between UNCLE and THRUSH. 

Kuryakin: That would be a lot easier if our own superior had been informed of this operation.

Solo: Indeed. We’re only obeying your orders in your position as chairman of the UN’s UNCLE oversight committee. We have a legal obligation, Mr Abernathy. Nothing more. 

Abernathy: And I appreciate that, Mr Solo. But let me be clear. The last time I met Tarses he showed me a document which is absolutely explosive, and meant that I couldn’t trust UNCLE upper levels.

Kuryakin: With all due respect, if you think there is a problem in UNCLE headquarters, how do you know that you can trust us?

Solo: Two THRUSHbirds in the hand, so to speak.

Abernathy: Because, Mr Solo, Mr Tarses vouched for you both as not being THRUSH agents. Now, I can’t know whether he’s telling the truth. But you two can. So   
you two just keep doing what you think is right, and I’ll trust you. I have to trust someone.

Kuryakin: Unless we’re quadruple agents, of course.

Abernathy: Perhaps Mr Kuryakin, but at that stage it’s no longer treason. It’s a mental illness. That machine he has must be gotten to New York. To a special UN facility. I have a man there whom I think can decipher it. Actually you may have heard of him. Have you ever heard of a brilliant young electronics industrialist named Jonathan Hart?

Fade out.   
 

Act I: “We’re not buying it. You can’t buy it.”

An electronics laboratory. Solo, Kuryakin, Abernathy, and Tarses stand watching Jonathan Hart  
dismantling the device. Two uniformed guards with blue UN helmets stand watch behind a glass booth. 

Hart: OK…so, this goes…ah, oh that’s clever. Boy, I’d like to meet the guy who designed this. He could write his own salary.

Solo: Is it what Tarses says it is?

Tarses: Please Mr Solo! The hostility! We ARE on the same side.

Solo: No, we currently share a common interest. There’s a difference. You can’t even see my side from yours.

Tarses smiles.

Hart: In answer to your question Mr. Solo, yes. It is an incredibly advanced communications system. Remember the Enigma machine during the war? This makes it look like a slide rule.

Kuryakin: That’s wonderful, but I still don’t see why Mr Waverley has to be kept in the dark. 

Hart: Do you want me to step outside? You know, clearance and all that.

Solo: Given that you singlehandedly designed UNCLE’s communications system, it would seem a bit superfluous. 

Hart: Just offering. 

Tarses stepped over to the device and put a hand on it.

Tarses: This is called a Direct One device. There are two of them in the world. This one, and…well, I suppose I’d better explain how THRUSH works.

Solo: I think we may have some experience of that.

Tarses: Indeed, but I mean internally. For example, I’ll wager you both believe that THRUSH Central is in charge of everything.

Kuryakin: That certainly was our thinking.

Tarses: Well it’s not. It can’t be. When you create an organisation like THRUSH which attracts ambitious sociopaths in the numbers it does, the manouvering for power would destroy the organisation. We’d spend more time plotting against each other than doing anything else.

Solo: If memory serves, you haven’t exactly been found wanting in that department. 

Tarses: Yes, there’s some, but it’s crushed ruthlessly if there’s a danger of it getting out of hand. THRUSH believes, after all, in order.

Solo: THRUSH order.

Tarses: We have a system. THRUSH Central sets policy, but the day to day operations of THRUSH are controlled by the First Secretary. He, or she carries out the wishes of the board, or deals with those who attempt to undermine it.

Solo: How separation of powers of you.

Kuryakin: You said he or she?

Tarses: Very astute, Mr Kuryakin. You see, THRUSH Central has no idea who the First Secretary is. It could be a member of Central, it may not be. We don’t know. As a result, it dampens down Machivellian plotting no end. Very hard to conspire against someone if you don’t know who you are conspiring against.

Solo: Or conspire with the person who might actually be the First Secretary?

Tarses: Now you’re getting it. The First Secretary has almost completely ended the THRUSH coups and civil wars of the 1960s. 

Kuryakin: But who chooses them? If you don’t know…

Hart: The Ultimate Computer.

Tarses: Exactly. Our Ultimate Computer secretly canvasses all the members of THRUSH Central and determines what individual has the widest support. People are very discreet.

Hart bangs the Direct One device.

Hart: And this is how they communicate. Brilliant!

Abernathy stepped closer to the others. 

Abernathy: The second device is with the First Secretary, and Mr Tarses believes that Mr Hart here has the ability to adjust the device to send a signal from the device to the other one. A signal we can trace.

Solo: You’re giving us the supreme leader of THRUSH? What did he do to you?

Tarses: Let us just say that my view of THRUSH has taken a radical turn of late. Mr Abernathy understands.

Kuryakin: Sir, what’s going on here? There’s obviously something in the background being kept from us and Mr Waverly.  
A loud electronic sound comes from the Direct One.

Hart: I have it, give me that cable!

Solo picks up a cable from a table.

Hart: The red one, the red one.

Kuryakin: Don’t you know it’s always the red one?

Solo gives him a look and hands the cable to Hart, who wires it in. He then turns on a monitor,   
adjusts the Device One again, and listens to an ear piece.

Hart: I have it, I’m getting the signal back…it’s weak…but...

The monitor flickers to life. It shows a bird’s eye view of the US, but with each adjustment by Hart zooms in closer, until it is over Manhattan.

He adjusts again.

Hart: I can narrow it to a block, but not much closer.

The monitor zooms in closer. Kuryakin shoots a look at Solo.

Abernathy: Say it, Mr Kuryakin.

Kuryakin: This means nothing. Certainly not coming from him. (He points at Tarses).

Abernathy: But you understand why I’ve kept Alexander Waverly out of this operation.

Solo: This is a THRUSH operation to discredit him. We’re not buying it. You can’t buy it.

Abernathy: Gentlemen, I served with Alexander Waverley during the war. The man saved my life in France. I assure you he will get every benefit of the doubt. But as loyal UNCLE agents, tell me what your professional duty tells you to do, what your experience tells you? Just walk away from this?

Kuryakin: This is a plot by that man.

Abernathy: Then prove him wrong. Tell me what you would do now.

Fade out.

   
Act II. “Remind me please to put you on my next jury!”

Ext: A brownstone building. Night.

Int: A landing outside an apartment. Two men, Butler and Colpepper, in suits, sit at a table in the   
hallway playing cards. A yellow light flashes over the elevator door.   
Both drop the cards, and pull their UNCLE specials from their jackets.   
One hits a switch on the wall, which causes a thick plate of glass to suddenly slide between them and   
the elevator doors. 

The elevator doors open. Nobody steps out. Then Solo’s head pops out, sees the two UNCLE agents   
with guns drawn, and smiles. 

Solo: Evening, gentlemen. I’m here with Ilya, Jonathan Hart and Chairman Abernathy of the oversight committee. We’d appreciate if you didn’t shoot us.

Kuryakin (Offscreen): Or gas us.

Solo: Or, eh, gas us.

Solo steps out as the two agents holster their guns. One hits the switch to make the plate withdraw   
back into the wall.

Butler: It’s midnight. Is he expecting you?

Abernathy holds up a blue piece of paper.

Abernathy: I’m afraid not. Sadly we’re here to detain Mr Waverly. It’s all here.

He hands the blue paper to Butler. Colpepper looks at it. 

Colpepper: Solo, is this for real?

Solo nods.

Solo: Let me stress that this is just standard procedure. This doesn’t mean he is guilty of anything.

Abernathy: Of course.

Colpepper presses a buzzer on the door. It opens surprisingly quickly. Alexander Waverly is standing   
at the door in his suit, with a hardback novel under his arm.

Waverly: Gentlemen. 

He looks at Abernathy, then at Solo and Kuryakin.

Waverly: I see. You’d better come in. Good to see you again, Mr Hart. I do hope your fiancée is taking good care of you.

Waverly steps aside, letting the group enter the room. It is a comfortable old fashioned sitting room,  
lined with books. 

Butler steps forward.

Butler: Sir, if you need assistance...

Waverly smiles, and taps the young agent on the arm.

Waverly: There’s nothing to worry about, Mr Butler. We’re among friends here.

Butler nods, and closes the door.

Waverly: Now, gentlemen. Coffee? I believe I may even be able to find where my wife hides the biscuits when she’s away.

Abernathy hands him the blue paper.

Abernathy: Alexander, I…

Waverly: I understand entirely, dear fellow. We all have jobs to do. I take it from the late hour and Mr Hart’s presence that you suspect I have something hidden here.

Solo: Not that it proves anything.

Hart holds up hand held device with a rotating loop aerial.

Hart: May I…?

Waverly: Oh please, have the run of the place. I’m glad I washed the dishes now.

Hart walks around the apartment, looking intently at the device. He stops, and points at a wooden   
chest. He looks at Illya.

Kuryakin: Sorry sir, may I..?

Waverly: Of course. It’s not locked.

Kuryakin opens the box, and looks in. A Direct One device sits at the bottom.

Waverly peers in, and says nothing.

Abernathy: Mr Solo, escort Mr Waverly to UN Security. Mr Kuryakin, get onto UNCLE headquarters. I want a complete search of this apartment. And Mr Waverly’s office in UNCLE. 

Solo: Now, wait a minute, it’s obvious that’s been plant….

Abernathy: Mr Solo, my instructions aren’t up for …

Waverly: Napoleon, it’s all right. Mr Abernathy is perfectly right. No one is above the law. That’s why we are UNCLE agents. 

Solo nods, and leads Waverly towards the door.  
Cut to: getting into a car on the street below.

Solo: We’ll get this nonsense sorted…

Waverly snaps a gas capsule in Solo’s face. Solo collapses, getting caught by Waverly who lies him on   
the sidewalk. Waverly looks quickly up and down the street, and then turns and walks down a dark   
alley.

Fade out.

Int: UNCLE HQ. Waverly’s office. Abernathy, Solo, Kuryakin and Tarses are sitting around the table.

Kuryakin is reading a report.

Kuryakin: He ditched his communicator in the alley. We’ve alerted the ports, airports, and the FBI have been discreetly advised, as have all UNCLE offices worldwide. 

Abernathy: Alexander is a wily old bird. Even today he’ll still have a retreat somewhere, a loft with clothes, money, weapons, God knows how many passports and alternate identities, somewhere to hide out and think. 

Tarses: Until he can arrange THRUSH to pick him up. 

Solo: I refuse to believe that.

Tarses: He gassed you and ran. We found Direct One. What more proof do you want?

Kuryakin: This is all circumstantial…

Tarses: Fleeing UNCLE custody is now circumstantial…remind me please to put you on my next jury!

Solo: This doesn’t smell right. Why did you believe that it was even possible that Mr Waverly could be THRUSH.

Abernathy: Thank you, gentlemen, for your patience. You see, when Mr Tarses here first contacted me, he provided me with an extraordinary document…perhaps you had better explain.

Tarses stands up, and walks over to the window.

Tarses: As you are aware, THRUSH uses our very considerable computer capability to assist us in planning and commanding our operations. We recently activated our latest generation of Ultimate Computer. It is possibly the most advanced computer in the world, and we asked it to audit our organisation. In particular, why UNCLE kept defeating THRUSH?

Solo (picking lint off his collar): Well, I would have thought the answer was obvious.

Tarses: Indeed, the computer came to the same conclusion. That UNCLE was better resourced, better equipped and had agents of the calibre of you two, Mr Morton, the former Miss Dancer. THRUSH just was not, as they say, at the races. Sure, we won just enough to fund ourselves, keep going, but we lost or at least drew every major fight with you through the late fifties and all the sixties. 

Kuryakin: Well, when you’ve got it…

Tarses: Then the computer issued a minority report of sorts, an alternative proposition that was so bizarre that THRUSH Central buried it. But it intrigued me, so I studied it further and concluded it was correct. In short, the alternate report suggested that THRUSH was actually run by UNCLE.

Kuryakin leaps from his seat and points a finger at Tarses.

Kuryakin: You had us arrest Alexander Waverly on the basis of this?

Abernathy raised a hand, and gestured Tarses to continue.

Tarses: The report suggested that the reason THRUSH failed against UNCLE was because the First Secretary of THRUSH, the man responsible for all its day to day operations, was Alexander Waverly.

Solo: This makes no sense. The idea that Mr Waverly is some sort of master criminal…

Abernathy: Nobody is suggesting that, Mr Solo.

Solo: I beg your pardon? This man, this actual master criminal, is suggesting one of the finest men I have ever known…

Tarses: No, I’m not! Do you not think I’d be thrilled if THRUSH was being run by possibly the finest intelligence operative of the 20th century? I’d be picking out villas on the Riviera! No, you don’t get it. You’re not the one who has been betrayed here!

Abernathy: Gentlemen, please, let him finish.

Tarses: The outrage is not that Waverly is a criminal. The outrage is that THRUSH is not what we in THRUSH think it is. This infamous band of international renegades, interested in its own power and enrichment and world domination. That’s the THRUSH I thought I was joining. But instead the report suggests that THRUSH, which really only came to light after UNCLE was founded by Waverly, is a front. That Alexander Waverly, realising the need for global stability in an age of atomic weapons, decided to create the means of recruiting and controlling the finest criminal minds in the world. THRUSH isn’t to pool our resources, it’s to keep us occupied and out of trouble. Where do you think UNCLE gets its last minute information that always allows you to foil our more grandiose plans? Sure, we get to wet our beaks occasionally, as the saying goes, and yes, UNCLE agents sometimes die, but global stability and order, UNCLE’s mission in the world, gets maintained. You’re good Mr Solo, but you’re not this good! 

Abernathy: That’s a very generous interpretation, and perhaps even true. But that’s not how the governments who fund UNCLE will see it. They’ll see an organisation that costs billions has been creating its own enemy to justify its funding. If this is true, Alexander Waverly is going to jail.

Solo’s communicator starts to beep. Solo looks at Kuryakin, who shrugs. He pulls it out and speaks   
into it.

Solo: Hello?

Hart: Mr Solo, Jonathan Hart here. You there with Mr Abernathy?

Solo: Ah, yes. How did you…

Hart: It was quicker to just patch myself through direct.

Solo: That’s very reassuring that you can do that to our multi-million dollar communications system.

Hart: Just thought I’d let you know. I’ve picked up another Direct One transmitting.

Tarses: That’s impossible.

Hart: Maybe so, but I know what I’m looking at, Upstate New York. If I go with you I can probably narrow it down.

Abernathy: Perhaps Mr Waverly is plotting his escape. Gentlemen, take a squad with you. See what this all means. 

Tarses: Take me with you.

Kuryakin: Absolutely not. Life is hard enough having people in front of you shooting at you without you standing behind me.

Tarses: I can help. If it’s a THRUSH base I can get you in. I’m a member of THRUSH Central, don’t forget.

Abernathy: Alright, take him with you.

Solo: This is quite possibly one of the worst weeks of my life.

Cut to:

The UNCLE Garage. The doors open, and Tarses, Solo, Kuryakin and a group of UNCLE agents exit,   
walking towards a number of parked cars. Kuryakin spots a foot hiding behind a car. He pulls out his   
Special and fires. A number of THRUSH agents pop up from behind cars with rifles and start firing.

Kuryakin: Ambush!

Solo grabs Tarses by the collar and pushes him forward towards one of the cars.   
The other UNCLE agents open fire on the attackers.   
The UNCLE alert klaxon sounds, and slots open in the wall, followed by machine guns which open  
fire at the Thrushmen.   
In seconds the battle is over, and the Thrushmen are dead.

Solo climbs out of the car, pulling Tarses out behind him. 

Solo: You really have a knack for bringing out the worst in people, you know that?

   
Act III: “He called me Napoleon.”

Kuryakin and Solo, both in black combat gear and blackened faces, are lying on a ridge overlooking a   
large house in its own grounds. Kuryakin is looking through binoculars.

Kuryakin: There’s another set of alarm wires on the wall…ah…far left corner.  
(hands the binoculars to Solo)

Solo (looking): What do we have here?

Binocular insert: two Thrush soldiers in uniform with Thrush rifles on patrol around the house.

Hart suddenly appears beside them, similarly dressed.

Hart: Right, that’s the alarm system taken out. Over the wall and you can reach the house. I can’t guarantee the house itself though. Could be wired with anything. Gas, explosives…

Kuryakin: Keeps life interesting. OK, get back to the command truck. Tell Abernathy we’ll give the go signal…and Jonathan: thanks. 

Hart: Thank you, guys. Good luck.

Hart slips away.

Solo: He called me Napoleon.

Kuryakin: Who?

Solo: Waverly. Back at his apartment. He’s never called Napoleon. 

Kuryakin: He called me Illya once, and I reckon that was by accident. 

Solo: If he’s here…if he pulls a gun on us?

Kuryakin: If he does, he’s not the Waverly we thought he was. Let’s go.

Cut to: Both climb over the wall, landing and crouching, extended Specials at the ready, they move towards the house. Two Thrush soldiers walk around the corner, see them, and pull their rifles down, but not before Solo and Kuryakin shoot them.

They reach the front door, and both don gas masks. Solo pulls out a grenade.   
Kuryakin pulls out his communicator, and taps three beeps.

Cut to: A group of similarly dressed UNCLE agents all rise up out of bushes and vault the wall.

Cut to: Kuryakin shoots the hinges off the door, and kicks it open. Solo lobs in a grenade with explodes in a plume of yellow gas. Both storm the hallway, Solo shooting another Thrush soldier.

Another Thrush soldier reaches Kuryakin before he can shoot, knocking the gun out of his hand. Kuryakin flips the soldier over his back, then fells him with a blow to the neck.

The sound of UNCLE specials firing and grenades exploding can be heard outside.   
Solo opens the door into the living room, just as other agents enter through the patio.

Angelique Duvall sits on a sofa, sipping a Martini.

Angelique: I’d recognise that gorgeous hair anywhere. 

Solo pulls off his gasmask, as do the other UNCLE agents.

Solo: This is a surprise. Not entirely unpleasant. 

Angelique: It’s been a while, what, six years?

Solo: And time has been very gentle…

Kuryakin: I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’re under arrest Ms. Le…

Angelique: Duvall now, Mr Kuryakin. In honour of my late poor husband.

Kuryakin: Not that poor, I suspect… 

Another UNCLE agent enters the room.

UNCLE Agent: We’ve searched the place. Nobody but her and the eight Thrushmen.

Angelique: You were expecting someone else?

Tarses (Entering with Abernathy and Hart): I should have known. Yes, this makes sense.

Angelique: Napoleon, if this snake has you doing his dirty work for him...

Tarses: Just business, my dear, nothing more. As promised, Mr Abernathy. The First Secretary of THRUSH.

Hart holds up his tracker, then points at a wall panel. Kuryakin inspects the edging, then flips a   
switch. The panel slides open revealing a Direct One device.

Kuryakin: THRUSH must have bought these in a job lot.

Angelique: What have they promised you, Tarses? Wait, this isn’t about that stupid minority report? Oh please, don’t tell me UNCLE has believed that nonsense?

Tarses: Does it matter?

Tarses drops an odd weapon which emits a high pitched whine. Everyone in the room collapses save   
for Tarses, who removes earplugs.

Act IV: “They died for a noble cause. Noble to me, anyway.”

Tarses sprays a small handheld aerosol into Solo’s face. He awakens to see that he, Kuryakin, Hart,   
Abernathy and Angelique all secured but conscious. The other UNCLE agents are still unconscious.   
Two THRUSHmen stand with him. 

Tarses: A little something from THRUSH Labs. Sonic grenade. Will put a man out for at least six hours unless he gets a little blast of this. Harmless but effective.

Solo: If you hurry, you can get it out just in time for the Christmas market. 

Tarses: Gentlemen, thank you so much. I literally couldn’t do it without you. 

Kuryakin: Do what?

Angelique: Stage a coup in THRUSH. THRUSH didn’t have the technology to track a Direct One, but he figured out that Mr. Hart was on the right track. Hello, Mr. Hart. I’m sorry we haven’t been properly introduced. You really are as handsome as your profile in Time magazine.

Hart: That’s very kind, Ms. Duvall. My wife certainly seems to approve.

Angelique: Lucky woman.

Tarses: It’s true. I read a paper of yours, really excellent. So I thought, why not two birds with the one stone: discredit UNCLE, and create a vacancy in THRUSH for a young up and coming THRUSH officer who had just destroyed our greatest enemy. 

Solo: By framing Waverly. 

Tarses: Yes, I couldn’t believe he went on the lam, as it were. That was a real surprise. 

Abernathy: You don’t know where he is?

Tarses: Haven’t a clue. 

Solo: That attack on you?

Tarses: A THRUSH unit under my control. They died for a noble cause. Noble to me, anyway. 

Hart: I’ve heard enough.

Tarses: I’m sorry, am I boring you?

Hart: No, I mean, I have actually heard enough. Have you, Mr Waverly?

Waverly (through a microphone on Hart’s lapel): Oh definitely.

A window shatters as an UNCLE Special fires three times. Tarses and his two men fall to the   
floor.

Moments later, Alexander Waverly, wearing army combat gear, comes in, holding an extended   
UNCLE Special. 

Waverly: My God, that man likes the sound of his own voice.

He bends down and unties Solo, then Kuryakin.

Waverly: You gentlemen alright? Nothing serious?

Solo unties Hart and Abernathy.

Solo: Fine, sir, save for a bruised ego.

Waverly: Yes, I’m sorry about that. When Jonathan here briefed me as to the Direct One operation, I suspected what Tarses was up to, so I decided to go incognito. I do hope the gas pellet didn’t leave any long lasting effects.

Solo: No, no…

Kuryakin: Hart told you?

Waverly: He’s my godson. And when you found that device in my home, which, by the way, raises serious questions about our internal security…well, I knew I wasn’t a traitor, so decided to let the plan play out. Ah, Ms Duvall. At last.

Waverly helps her up and kisses her hand.

Angelique: An honour, Mr Waverly. That combat look suits you.

Waverly: What? Oh yes, haven’t worn this since my SOE days. Mostly gardening on my allotment now. 

The other UNCLE agents have now recovered. 

Waverly: Now, gentlemen, I’ve only drugged Mr. Tarses, so let’s get him back to HQ. As for you, Ms Duvall, you’re free to go.

Solo: What?

Kuryakin: Sir, she…

Waverly: Free to go, Ms Duvall. It’s been a pleasure. 

She kisses him on the cheek, then waves at Solo and leaves.

Abernathy: You’re letting the head of THRUSH leave?

Waverly: Oh yes. And after debriefing Tarses, we’ll let him go too.

Abernathy: I don’t understand.

Waverly: Tarses wasn’t alone, as the faked attack on him proved. He had support in THRUSH Central. And his coup has failed. What do you think THRUSH will spend the next 12 months doing?

Solo: Civil war.

Kuryakin: Trying to kill each other.

Waverly: Exactly. Rather than us, or stealing atomic bombs and the like. I think that’s a result. Now, gentlemen, let’s go to my club. I need a bath, and I shall buy you all dinner.

Abernathy: You wily old fox.

Solo: I can’t help thinking we owe you an apology.

Waverly: Not at all, Mr Solo. You did your duty. You all did. I expect nothing less. I am angry about one thing, all the same.

Kuryakin: Oh?

Waverly: The idea that I set up THRUSH as well. Ingenious. I’m quite annoyed that it never occurred to me to do so. 

Freeze frame/End.


End file.
